


#73: "Mercy"

by theskywasblue



Series: 100 days, 100 prompts [35]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10208936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: He never expected to receive anything approaching mercy





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if this is actually any good; but that's what happens when you write something at 8pm in the waiting room at the walk-in clinic, I guess.

The house is very much as Hakkai remembers it, if slightly less tidy; though there’s some evidence that Gojyo has been making at least a token attempt to keep things in order. At that exact moment, Hakkai finds that he doesn't matter much either way. When he presented himself for judgement he had never expected to receive anything approaching mercy; being displeased with a bit of dirt that’s accumulated in his temporary absence seems somehow ungrateful. 

They hover next to one another, putting their small collection of groceries away, and Gojyo continues to linger around the periphery of kitchen as Hakkai moves on to the crooked pile of dishes that have collected in the sink.

“So, you’re staying?”

Hakkai shuts the tap off. Ribbons of steam rise from the surface of the water as he rolls up his sleeves. “If...that’s alright? I can look for a place of my own in the meantime.”

“No -” Gojyo bites the word off so quickly that Hakkai turns to see if his tongue has gone with it. Gojyo looks adrift in the middle of the floor, one hand on the back of his neck where his hair is shaved short, the other picking at a fray on the hem of his shirt. “I mean, that’s...Absolutely.”

Hakkai is about to go back to the dishes when Gojyo clears his throat, then his gaze flickers away, and he shifts his weight back and forth like a nervous child, licks his lips. 

“Hakkai,” he says, finally; not a question. 

The name still sounds strange, a thing without much weight, yet with great significance. “Yes.”

“I like it.” When Gojyo smiles, it is not his usual, rakish grin, but something uncultivated, imperfect. Genuine. He hides it by seating himself quickly at the kitchen table, head down, fussing with a half-fallen sock. His hands, Hakkai notices, tremble ever-so-slightly. 

Perhaps the gods’ mercy, he thinks, wasn't truly meant for him at all.


End file.
